


In The Flesh/Run Like Hell

by Sashataakheru



Category: The Chaser RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Evil Overlord, Authority Figures, Community: seasonsofkink, Danger, Dystopian Future, M/M, Military Uniforms, Politics, Taking Over the World, Uniform Kink, tyranny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Charles Firth has realised his delusions of grandeur and taken over Australia to bring the country back into order. Andrew finds himself distracted by many other things. Okay, a few things. Alright, Craig's damn uniform. He's as repulsed as he is attracted, and when Craig offers to take him to bed after noticing his not-so-obvious staring, it's better than he could ever have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Flesh/Run Like Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'uniforms' for seasonofkink round 1. My card is [here](http://3evilmuses.dreamwidth.org/79707.html).
> 
> This came about because I had a flash of an image of Craig in some sort of military dress uniform (or something like it) with Andrew kneeling at his feet, licking his boots. I almost went down the school uniform route, but Craig (and Charles) had other ideas. I had half a thought it was half a memory of an old Chaser's War on Everything sketch, but I can't be entirely sure about that. Anyway. Have a fic. Shades of 'authority figures' and 'danger' and 'tyranny' and miscellaneous power exchange kinks. 
> 
> tl;dr: this is a very complicated justification for what is essentially a uniform kinkfic.

Andrew had always found Craig to be a particularly pretty man. He never seemed to look in any way unattractive. Even in old uni photos, where his hair was terrible, and his shirts too big, he still found his face beautiful. He'd grown into his body now, and knew he was attractive. That was half of the problem. He could have anyone he wanted, and usually did. 

Then again, a lot had happened since university. 

Andrew had never conceived of the possibility of The Chaser being anything other than a shitty satirical newspaper that would lead to nowhere and forever lose money. Charles loved it far too much to care about profitability. He also had delusions of grandeur no one had been able to comprehend, not least when he actually put them into action, and brought down the Australian government, replacing with what was, upon appearances, a benevolent dictatorship. 

Andrew had many, many, many problems with this. It wasn't just his desperate disinterest in politics, though that was part of it. He'd been dragged along, promised clemency and protection, because Charles loved him. But perhaps it was easy to ignore what was going on outside when stuck in a palace. Benevolence only went so far in Charles' mind. Holding power was vital, whatever the cost. Andrew wasn't sure where this Charles had come from, and what frightened him the most was the possibility he'd been there the whole time, and Andrew had just refused to see it. Life had become very surreal indeed.

And yet, it was Craig who bothered him the most. Craig, Charles' most trusted lieutenant who possibly had designs on his master's job, fearless commander of their lord and master's Army, and quite possibly the only man in the entire palace who could wear that damn uniform as if it were lingerie. Andrew hated him for that, because he knew, or at least, he suspected, that he did it for Andrew, just to rile him up. It was always possible that Craig, in his vanity, did it purely for himself, and that was definitely part of it. But Andrew was certain that, whatever else, Craig always made sure Andrew noticed him, even if no one else did. 

It was actually infuriating. To know what Craig had done while wearing that uniform, to know he had blood on his hands, and yet, to see him looking so damn fuckable... Andrew didn't know how to cope. He'd always stayed out of the political stuff. He'd never been interested in it. But it was his problem now, because Charles had taken over the damn country, and now Craig was a murderous bastard in a hot uniform, and Andrew didn't know what to do.

Perhaps it was the danger that made him attractive. He did often sneak into Craig's training sessions, just to watch him drill the troops. He'd sometimes strip down so he was shirtless, and with sweat all over him, sword held in hand, he looked like a god. Andrew barely returned with his sanity intact, and would flee to his room to take care of his persistent arousal, hoping no one noticed.

* * *

"I know you want me," whispered a voice in his ear.

Andrew startled, and turned to see Craig standing there, eyes full of lust. He'd been watching him train again, and he'd lost track of where he'd gone once it was all over. He hadn't left in case he saw him again. Which had apparently been on Craig's mind as well. 

"I-I don't know what you're - talking about," Andrew managed to say.

Craig smirked, grasped his chin, and kissed him. Andrew was sure time stopped. 

"Meet me in my quarters in ten. I'll deal with you then," Craig said, and offered another kiss as a promise.

And then he was alone, left to wonder what had happened. Andrew needed a few minutes to process the request, before he got to his feet and hurried to Craig's rooms. He wasn't about to skip a request like that; Craig was the highest ranking person in the palace beside Charles. Andrew had to obey, even if he didn't want to go.

He knocked tentatively on his door when he arrived. Craig made him wait, and when he opened the door, he was dressed in his uniform again, hair slicked back, boots shining, holster and gun sitting ready. Andrew swallowed. 

"Come in, princess. Tell me, what rank are you again?" Craig said, gesturing him inside. 

Andrew mumbled his reply, unwilling to admit how low down he was. He almost felt he'd been cheated out of a better role by Craig, but he couldn't really blame him for that. Charles hadn't left him behind, at any rate, and low as he was, he was doing a lot better than some people out there.

"I didn't catch that, would you say that again?" Craig said.

Andrew sighed. "Assistant Overseer of the East Wing of the Palace."

Craig straightened and turned to face him. "And who do you report to?" 

Andrew's gaze hit the floor. "The Overseer of the East Wing, who reports to the head of the Palace Household, who reports to the King's Household, who reports to King Charles' private staff, who report to the King Himself."

"And where do I fit, then?"

"You, sir, are a member of His Majesty's private staff, sir, and Lord of the Armies. There are none greater than you than the King Himself," Andrew replied.

Craig came over to him then, and lifted his chin. Andrew reluctantly met his gaze. "You like the uniform, don't you? You love every part of it. Don't think I haven't noticed your staring."

Andrew bowed his head, ashamed. "You speak true, my Lord. It is only you, my Lord, who captures my heart, but I am a lowly assistant overseer. You have no need to humour me any longer."

Craig replied with a kiss, pressing against him. "I'll make you Lord of the Bedchamber. I'll lift you higher than you can imagine. You do want that, don't you? You want me?"

Andrew breathed his consent, unable to resist the way Craig was seducing him. There was something so utterly clinical and cold about his appearance, and how he wore his uniform, and he didn't expect that to change when Craig took his arm and led him to bed. 

The bed itself was huge, but soft and wonderful to lie on. Andrew found himself pinned down, and then all he was aware of was Craig undressing him, and the fabric of that beautiful uniform rubbing against his skin. Craig held him close, never letting any distance come between them. His leather gloves seduced him; his boots rubbed against his shins, and moved up between his legs. Andrew found himself utterly smitten, and utterly aroused, taking every opportunity to make love not just to Craig, but to his damn uniform. He never took it off; he merely slipped his cock out enough to fuck him, and that was it. 

"Maybe I'll make you an officer. Maybe I'll make you wear the damn uniform you love so much. How'd you like that?" Craig drawled, lying beside him. 

The warm afterglow of sex was still lingering. They'd been lying here for some time, Craig whispering temptations into his ear. Andrew knew he'd placed himself in such a way that he was physically dominating him, and making his superior rank obvious. Andrew gave in, and let Craig bring him close, cradling him in his arms. Being naked, Andrew felt particularly vulnerable, though at least it enabled him to be close to the material of Craig's uniform as he pressed against him. That warm afterglow was threatening to turn into arousal all over again.

"Oh, you shouldn't make me a soldier. I'd be a terrible soldier. No, I'm perfectly happy with my position, thank you very much," Andrew said, partly shocked by hsi offer and partly too embarrassed to admit he would like that very much.

Craig brushed his cheek gently. "Oh, I don't know about that. I can turn anyone into a soldier, even you." His fingers trailed softly down his neck, and to his chest, his fingers stopping to circle his nipple. "Imagine how good you'd look in that uniform, hmm?" Craig drawled against his throat. 

Andrew shivered, voice lost to his arousal. He could only watch, helpless, as his hand moved down to clasp his hard cock, and begin stroking him. Craig wore his black leather gloves, and kissed his neck, sucking hard on the skin, as he worked him. He brought his legs over his own, rubbing a boot against his leg. Andrew had few thoughts left as he gave in, his body accepting the pleasure for what it was. It wasn't just Craig, it was that uniform, seeing how it enveloped him and brought him pleasure. Craig held him, cocooned him, and worked his body until he shuddered, cock jerking into his hand as he came once more. 

Andrew was lost to exhaustion after that. Craig tucked him into bed, and curled up beside him, holding him tight. Andrew only half heard Craig vowing his protection as he drifted off.

"I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you safe, Hanso. Lord knows you bloody need it," Craig murmured, and kissed his cheek.


End file.
